The Crossroads

Judy’s legs quaked. She couldn’t find Zack. Her new house was burning down. George was on the other side of the globe. Gerda Spratling’s creepy old Cadillac had just cruised up the road. She heard sirens. Fire trucks. Police.

And Zipper kept barking at her.

“What is it?”

Zipper ran up the road about twenty yards, stopped, and turned around. Barked.

“You want me to follow you?”

Zipper barked what had to be a “yes” and flew up the highway toward the graveyard. Judy followed. They ran all the way to the cemetery. Zipper barked louder, stood up on his hind legs, tried to scale the fence. Judy saw a baseball cap stuck on top of a railing. Zack’s Mets cap!

She understood.

Zack had been in the graveyard again. Why? Maybe a dead farmer named Davy had lured him there.

No. Davy didn’t want to hurt Zack. If he wanted to do that, he would have done it days ago.

Maybe Zack came here to hide, like he did the other night when the plumber was after them.

Okay. But hide from whom?

What if Zack was the one who started the fire? Then he’d be hiding from me!

She looked back toward the house. The firefighters were spraying water on the house, the garage, and that big stump in the backyard.

Looks like he destroyed Miss Spratling’s descanso, too….

The creepy old Cadillac!

“Judy?” Sheriff Hargrove came hiking up the cemetery hill behind her.

“We need to talk to Zack,” he said.

“She has him!”

“Who?”

“Gerda Spratling.”

“I’m afraid Miss Spratling has stepped out,” Sharon said to the crowd gathered outside the door.

“We know,” Judy said. “She stepped out to kidnap my son!”

Judy hadn’t called George. Not yet. What good would it do? She was the one who had to find Zack. Fast.

“We’d like to look around,” Hargrove said to Sharon.

“What is all this commotion?”

Gerda Spratling, dressed in her gauzy wedding gown, waltzed into the foyer.

Zipper barked.

“Kindly remove that vile creature from these premises.”

“The dog stays,” said Hargrove. “We need him to help us search your house.”

“Tonight?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Am I allowed to ask why?”

“My stepson is missing!”

“Really? Did you misplace him, dearie? My, my, my. How careless.”

“Miss Spratling?” said Hargrove. “We need to search your house. We need to do so immediately.”

“I saw you,” Judy said to Spratling. “I saw your car.”

“Where?”

“In the crossroads. You were there tonight!”

“Of course I was, dearie. I heard some young pyromaniac was attempting to destroy my roadside memorial. Tell me, Sheriff Hargrove: Has the fire department done their duty?”

He nodded. “The fire has been contained.”

“Wonderful. Now, then, if you will excuse me…”

“Miss Spratling?” said the sheriff. “Maybe you didn’t hear me. We need to search your house.”

“Oh, I heard you, Sheriff Hargrove. However, I don’t recall hearing you say you had a warrant. Did my dear friend Judge Brockman sign the appropriate papers?”

“Not yet, but he will.”

“Come back when he does. Good night, all.”